What Really Happened
by ardavenport
Summary: Roy wakes up and has to deal with what happened the day before. To both himself and Johnny.
1. Chapter 1

**WHAT REALLY HAPPENED**

by ardavenport

**- - - Part 1**

* * *

Ooooooeeeeeeeeee-Blaaaaaaaaaaahhhhh!!!

Roy sprinted out of the living room for the squad. He kicked a bright red plastic bucket on the way. The kids were supposed to put their toys away. The other guys at the station ran in as well, but it was Chris's turn to drive the engine, so Mike Stoker had to sit in the back.

The bay door opened.

It was sunny outside, but the street was flooded.

"Oh, man." His partner, Johnny Gage, squinted out at the running water and then glared at him. "We're not going to get through this."

"Well, I didn't do it!"

Johnny kept scowling at him.

"I didn't do it!" But privately Roy wondered if he left the shower running when he cleaned the latrines that morning. Would anyone notice if he snuck out to turn it off?

The engine wasn't going anywhere either. Even with Captain Stanley and Mike Stokers' help, Chris's legs were still too short to reach the pedals of the engine. Lopez and Kelly complained loudly about the delay.

"I don't think it's going to work out." Lopez shook his head, disapproving.

"Cap, that little kid can't do it. Besides, it's my turn to drive the engine. Come on."

"Hey, Kelly, don't talk to my son that way!" Roy ducked his head down to see up into the engine cab.

Johnny joined him. "Yeah, don't talk him like that! He can't help it if he's little!"

Roy looked outside again. He thought maybe the flood was going down.

It was sunny outside - - -

- - - Roy stared out the window, his head resting on the white pillow. The sky was blue and cloudless, tinged with brown LA smog over the expanse of the Rampart General Hospital parking lot outside.

It was morning.

Roy lifted his head and turned over on his back.

That was weird.

Roy DeSoto was not inclined toward dreaming one way or another, but that one had been weird. And technicolor vivid. And the other ones that had woken him up in the night had been even weirder. A basement full of play-dough, trees with lawn tools instead of branches, his wife in a grass skirt and nothing else, his mother-in-law in a bikini . . . . he shuddered. Was this a side effect? Neither Dr. Brackett nor Dr. Early had said anything about having weird dreams.

He turned his head toward the other bed in the hospital room. Johnny lay on his side, eyes closed, tousled black hair sunk into the white pillow, the sheet and blue blanket tucked up around his face. Roy did not want to wake him.

He pushed the sheet and blanket back. The linoleum floor was cold on his bare feet. He did not quite feel well, but well enough to go to the bathroom on his own. He absolutely did not want any help with that. Not this time.

He clutched the open back of the hospital gown behind him. There was no one else there, but a breeze coming in on his back side just wasn't natural. He was halfway to the room's small bathroom before he realized that he could see clearly again.

He looked around the room, at Johnny, out the window. Everything was clear and normal. Roy sighed with huge relief. Yes, Early had said that the blurriness would go away on its own. But that just wasn't the same as seeing it for real.

Going into the tiny bathroom, he closed the door and did his business and flushed. Then he washed his hands and splashed cold water on his face, into his dry mouth. Other than needing a shave, he didn't think he looked too bad. He looked carefully at his eyes. His pupils looked normal.

Exiting the bathroom, he couldn't hear too much going out in the hall beyond the door. How early was it?

He went back to the bed and looked in the drawer of the night stand next to it. His badge, belt, name tag, pin, watch, scissors, pen light. There wasn't much left. The rest of his and Johnnys' clothes had been burned. He had other uniforms, but Roy had really liked those shoes. Now he would have to go out and get another pair and break them in.

He picked out the watch and put it on the stand next to the mostly empty glass with the straw in it. It was six thirty-five. Climbing back into bed, he pulled up the covers. The floor was cold.

The blankets rustled in the other bed, but when he looked it didn't look like his partner had moved much.

"Johnny? Are you awake?"

"No." His eyes stayed closed.

"Hey, I can see clearly now. How about you?"

"Haven't looked." Johnny hugged the pillow tighter. Roy got out of bed, grasping the edges of the gown behind him.

"Johnny." He bent over his partner and pulled the covers back. Johnny squinted and scowled up at him. "Well?"

Johnny's eyes looked to the right, the left, up at him, out the window.

"Yeah. Looks okay." He sounded like he was tasting a flavor he wasn't sure he liked. "Now, give me the covers." He grabbed them back and turned over on his side, away from him.

"Well, all right." He got back into bed and pulled his own covers up. Then he looked for the control to raise the head of the bed. He was wide awake now. "I had some really weird dreams last night."

Johnny stirred and peered over his shoulder. "You, too?"

"Yeah. I thought my son was driving the engine and a lot of stuff weirder than that. But it felt so real. Really intense. Really weird."

Turning over on his back, Johnny put his hands behind his head. "Yeah, mine were really weird, too."

"What did you dream about?"

"Girls."

Girls. Johnny. Weird, intense dreams.

"I don't want to hear about it."

Johnny seemed to think this over. "I don't want to talk about it. But man. . . . it was weird." He closed his eyes again.

Roy looked out the window. The parking lot wasn't too full. "They're gonna bring breakfast around pretty soon."

"What time is it?"

"After six-thirty."

"They don't start bringing breakfast around until seven." Johnny sighed and pulled the covers up again.

"Oh." Roy looked out the window.

The door opened. Doctors Brackett and Early came in wearing white coats, stethoscopes around their necks. Early greeted them.

"Hi Roy, Johnny. How're you feeling?"

Roy answered first. "A lot better than yesterday." Early came to his bedside and took out a pen light while Johnny felt around for the control for the bed. Brackett got to it first, raising the upper half.

"Has your vision cleared up?" Roy blinked from the light that Early shined in his eyes.

"Yep. Looks great now." He grinned in relief. "But I don't mind saying I was pretty worried there for awhile."

At the other bed, Johnny grimaced as Brackett took his chin to tilt his head back and shine his light at him. "How about you? Everything look all right?"

"Yeah, everything looks fine now, Doc."

The door to the room opened. Two men in gray suits and plain ties came in.

"Just what are you doing here, Corrigan?"

Johnny jumped and flinched back even though Brackett's anger and near-shouting were not directed at him. The doctor advanced on the two unwelcome visitors.

"I told you last night that you can see my patients when I say they're ready."

Corrigan, a tall broad-shouldered man with slightly graying brown hair, seemed immune to Brackett's authority and outrage.

"These men look well enough to me. And your hospital administrator agrees that you've stalled our investigation long enough."

Early moved to stand with Brackett, who had enough outrage to fill the room.

"Investigation? What investigation? I haven't seen you doing anything to find out what happened. Seems to me that what you're doing is making sure that no one ever finds out what happened."

Behind Brackett, Johnny looked at Roy. Roy looked at Johnny and shrugged. They had never seen these two new characters before.

The other man, square-jawed with sandy blond hair swept back off his forehead was as unimpressed with Brackett as Corrigan. "Doctor, nothing is to be gained by starting a panic."

"And what about the panic that would be caused if something like this happens again?" Early gestured toward the two beds and patients. "It's just pure luck that these men normally carry the antidote with them. If an innocent person had walked in there they would have been dead in minutes."

Corrigan's expression darkened. "The problem, Doctors, has been contained."

"Really? How has it been contained? And how many lives are you willing to bet on that, Corrigan?" Brackett advanced on the first man in the gray suit, but he did not flinch.

"We've already explained that we're not at liberty to discuss the details, Doctor Brackett."

"Then why do you need to talk to us? Sounds like you've already decided what the details are."

Roy and everyone else looked toward his partner who sat up, arms folded before him, his expression obstinate. The other man replied.

"We're not clear on all the details, Mr. Gage. We'd certainly appreciate your help in sorting out what really happened."

Johnny pressed his lips together, but Brackett put himself between him and the man in the suit.

"We haven't finished our examination."

Corrigan remained calm.

"I'm sure you can finish that a little later." He took out a pen and a small pad of paper from an inside pocket of his jacket. "Agent Marsh and I only have few questions."

**

* * *

- - - End Part 1**


	2. Chapter 2

**WHAT REALLY HAPPENED**

by ardavenport

**- - - Part 2**

_

* * *

The call was for a man down. In the office._

_Roy and Johnny had just sat down to dinner with the rest of Station Fifty-One's men, but they had to leave. Captain Stanley said that they would keep some of the lasagna warm in the oven._

_There was no one there to meet them at the modest one-story building. Only one dark blue car in the otherwise empty lot in front._

_No one answered their knock or their calls. The Venetian blinds were pulled down over the front window, so they couldn't see inside. Johnny ran around to look in back. Almost immediately he called for a pry bar. Roy grabbed it from the upper compartment of the squad and ran around to the back with the drug box and the biophone._

_"I can see him on the floor. He's not moving."_

_Roy peeked in the high window while Johnny pried the door open. He could just see a man's body behind a table and an overturned chair. He wore a white jacket, his arms clutching his chest. But he wasn't moving._

_The door yielded and Johnny threw it open._

_The smell was terrible. Excrement, urine, vomit. The man's arms and legs were contorted, his mouth open. His eyes wide. He clutched a torn yellow page in one hand. His skin was pale and bluish. Dead. No pulse._

_Johnny went to check the front room while Roy knelt by the body. There was water and broken glass on the floor and a metal counter and sinks along the wall. Johnny came back._

_"There's a woman on the floor in there by a phone. It's the exact same thing."_

_Roy turned back to the body again. What. . . . ? He took the paper out of the man's hand. It was torn from a yellow legal pad and there was one word scrawled in ball point pen in huge letters. He didn't know what it meant, but it looked like this man's last word._

_"Roy."_

_He looked up at his partner. Johnny had grabbed the back of a chair pushed against the small table._

_"Something's wrong." Suddenly breathing fast, he bent down and grabbed the biophone. "We gotta get outta here. Get the drug box."_

_Roy stared. Everything looked fuzzy around the edges._

_"Roy! Get the drug box. We have to get out of here now!" Johnny's tone went harsh and demanding. Roy grasped the handle of the black box and Johnny impatiently pulled him up by the arm. Keeping a firm grip on his upper arm, Johnny hustled him out through the door and then closed it._

_Roy felt it when they got outside, out of the smell. It was a warm, pleasant day, but suddenly he felt out of breath, his chest tight._

_Something was wrong._

_They came around the front of the building and sat down by the squad, their backs to the wall. Roy showed the paper to Johnny. Everything was blurry but the letters were large and it was still light outside. Johnny opened the biophone._

_"Rampart, this is Squad Fifty-One. How do you read?" He sniffed and wiped his face on his bare arm._

_Doctor Brackett's voice answered._

_"This is Rampart. I read you loud and clear, Fifty-One."_

_"Rampart. We have two victims. Both deceased. Both appeared to have died with convulsions and loss of control of bodily functions." Johnny breathed loudly as he spoke. Roy's nose ran and he wiped it and his mouth and swallowed._

_"We are both now experiencing shortness of breath, blurry vision and excessive discharge from the nose and mouth." Johnny sniffed and wiped his face again. He looked at his partner and Roy nodded._

_"How long ago did this happen, Fifty-One?"_

_"About a minute ago." Johnny took another breath and sniffed again. Roy handed him the yellow paper. "Rampart, one of the victims was holding a piece of paper in his hand. He appears to have written the word 'sarin' on it. We think it was meant for anyone who found him."_

_"Fifty-One, repeat that."_

_Johnny squinted at the paper. "Rampart, that's sarin. S A R I N." He wiped his nose again._

_"Fifty-One, two milligrams atropine. Both of you. Right now!" Brackett's voice shouted out from the receiver._

_Roy opened the drug box. His hand froze over the open trays. Atropine, atropine, atropine. His fingers quickly counted down to the correct slot. He grabbed the vial and two syringe packets. Squinting and blinking, he could just make out the larger 'A' on the label. They always kept everything in its particular slot, but he had to be sure. He tore the packets open._

_"I sure hope you got the right one." Johnny leaned his head back against the wall, his arm over his forehead._

_"Yeah, I got it." He pulled the syringe plunger back._

_"Fifty-One, this is Rampart; don't waste time trying to find a vein. Use an intramuscular injection."_

_Johnny dropped his arm. "Oh, he's got to be kidding. Did you hear that?"_

_"Yeah." Brackett was really shouting. Roy checked the syringe one more time. "There's no point in waiting." He grabbed a meaty part of Johnny's upper thigh and jabbed the shot home._

_"OW!!" He stiffened, his back straight, almost pushing up off the pavement. "Ow! Ya-you could've WARNED me!"_

_Roy pulled the needle straight out and put it back in the box. He picked up the next prepared syringe and the vial of atropine. "Well, you can have your shot at me next." He squinted and blinked at the dosage, flicked his finger against the syringe. He handed it to Johnny._

_"Aaaaaah!" It really hurt. He could feel it squirting into his flesh, below his hip where Johnny grabbed him. Then he yanked the needle out and Roy rubbed the place on his pants where the needle had gone in._

_"Rampart, this is Squad Fifty-One. Two milligrams atropine. Both of us."_

_"Ten-four, Fifty-One."_

_Putting the syringe back in the box, Johnny leaned back against the wall. "Y'know Roy, he didn't ask us for vital signs. You think that means he knows what 'sarin' is?"_

_"I sure hope so. And I sure wish I didn't have to." How long did it take for the atropine to work? How long did they have? He still felt like he wasn't getting enough air. He just couldn't get in a deep breath. The sun was going down. The sky was starting to get dark._

_They sat next to each other, panting, their backs against the wall of the small building, the squad, big and red, still parked right in front of them. Leaning against the wall, Roy pushed himself up to his feet._

_"I'm going to get the oxygen out of the squad." He stumbled forward and crashed against the hood._

_"Roy!"_

_Clutching his arm tightly over his stomach, Roy looked up at his partner, who wasn't standing up that straight either. "I'm sure glad we didn't have dinner before we came." He clinched his teeth, fighting back the convulsion and nausea. The victim in the back . . . . vomiting and loss of bodily functions. Roy hoped that the atropine would stop that._

_"It's okay, it's okay. I'll get it. I'll get it." Johnny's hand patted his shoulder before he turned and leaning on the side of the squad, went to the side compartments. He took out the portable oxygen and put it on the ground; then he got out the tank. His nausea marginally under control, Roy went to help, pushing himself forward on the hood, then the side mirror, then the side._

_"I got it, I got it." But Johnny didn't and they locked arms, Roy with the portable, Johnny dragging the tank on its wheels. Brackett's voice called out from the biophone._

_"Squad Fifty-One, this is Rampart."_

_Leaning on each other, they unsteadily went back to the wall._

_"Squad Fifty-One. Respond."_

_Johnny let go of the tank and slid down to the ground. Roy eased himself down with the portable unit in front of him._

_"Johnny! Roy! Talk to me!"_

_Johnny picked up the receiver. "Rampart, this is Squad Fifty-One." He wiped his face again. "We were, uh, getting the oxygen out of the squad."_

_"Oh. All right. Good idea." Sitting right next to his partner so their shoulders touched, Roy was close enough to hear the tiny voice coming out of the receiver. He attached the masks to the tubes. "This is very important Fifty-One; is there anyone else in your area?"_

_"Negative Rampart. The building where the victims are located is isolated. The parking lot next to it is empty, except for one vehicle which is probably the victim's."_

_Roy could hear a siren in the distance. He handed Johnny an oxygen mask and turned on the valve for the one he had and put the mask to his face._

_"All right. We've notified the fire department and the health department of your situation. We're sending help. The police should be by anytime to cordon off your area. Whatever you do, don't let anyone come near you unless they're wearing gloves and a mask. And tell the officers where the victims are so they can rope it off. Can you manage to give us some vital signs?"_

_"Ten-four, Rampart." Johnny grabbed Roy's wrist. "You first this time." Roy nodded. His vital signs were all up. But was that the sarin, the atropine, or just old fashioned fear? Johnny handed him the stethoscope and BP cuff as he read off the readings to Brackett. Roy got the same results, BP, respiration, pulse rate, all up. They were both nauseous. And when he shined his pen light in Johnny's eyes he saw a lot of dark brown iris and the pupils constricted to small dots. They didn't react at all to the light, but his partner blinked and flinched from it. He repeated his own vital signs to Brackett._

_Johnny took several breaths but then put the mask down and picked up the biophone receiver again._

_"Rampart?"_

_"We're here, Fifty-One."_

_"Can you tell us what sarin is?"_

_Johnny let the receiver slide down to his shoulder and took another breath from the mask. Roy didn't hear an answer coming from it. Johnny picked it up, holding it out slightly, so Roy could hear._

_"Rampart?"_

_"Ten-four Fifty-One. Sarin is nerve gas. It was developed by the Germans for World War II. It's an odorless, colorless fluid and it can be inhaled as vapor or absorbed through the skin."_

_The receiver slipped down to Johnny's shoulder again. He wiped his forehead with his arm. "Oh, man . . . . ."_

_"Fifty-One? Johnny?"_

_"Ten-four, Rampart."_

_Roy breathed in the oxygen. Was the nausea better or worse? He could feel his heart pounding. Was it the fear or the sarin? He reached up to the pens in his front pocket. Should he write a note to Joanne? How much could he say to his wife on that little pad of paper he had?_

_The sirens were almost there. They could both see the flashing lights down the street, racing to them._

_The sun was down. It was getting dark._

**

* * *

- - - End Part 2**


	3. Chapter 3

**WHAT REALLY HAPPENED**

by ardavenport

**- - - Part 3**

_

* * *

They were separated when they got to Rampart. Everyone standing over Roy wore gowns and masks and gloves, as if for surgery, to prevent contamination. He thought he knew everyone in the room but between the masks and the blurry visions he wasn't sure. Doctor Early checked his eyes. His pupils were still constricted. His felt ill, like he had a low-grade fever and could not seem to take in enough air on his own but the oxygen helped. And he knew his mouth should have been dry from the atropine, but it wasn't.__Ben Tuloe from Squad Forty-Five had gone with them in the ambulance and started IVs on both of them. D5W._

_After the initial sorting out of vital signs and he told them about the victims, they got down the business. They removed the yellow covering that he had been transported in and then everything else. After he told them about the water on the floor of the room where the first victim had died they treated his shoes like they were radioactive waste. Anything made of metal could be decontaminated. The other things, they weren't so sure about. And anything they weren't sure about went into a big black plastic bag to be incinerated. Roy would have to replace his driver's license. There would be a long list of things for the reimbursement form that he would have to hand in to the department._

_They checked his vital signs, they drew blood, they asked him how he felt. Still queasy and tense, but no worse than before. His symptoms seemed to have been arrested by the atropine. But they weren't much better._

_Roy squinted under the examination lights above and turned his head while Nurse Betty swabbed him down. She paid particular attention to his hands, arms and any other places where he might have come into contact with any liquid on the scene. She kept the sheet over his body and worked under it, but there was no getting around the indignity; she washed everything, putting the used disposable wipes into the plastic bag as she went. She covered him with a clean hospital gown but only put one arm into a sleeve because of the IV in the other arm._

_He wondered what would be done with the squad. Probably nothing more than being washed down, but the drug box might go. And he wouldn't be surprised if they had a new biophone on their next shift. _

_Betty finished, changed her gloves, tied off the bag and took it away._

_Brackett came in and Early went to talk to him by the door. All Roy saw was the backs of their two white lab coats, Brackett's dark head, Early's silver hair. His vision still blurred, he could see any more detail than that. Someone in a nurse's cap came in, spoke to Brackett and he left._

_Early, his mask now pulled down, returned with the nurse. It was Betty again._

_"Carol, we're going to start with 2 grams of pralidoxime, intravenous and 5 milligrams diazepam. Start a second IV for the pralidoxime."_

_"Right away, Doctor."_

_Early leaned over him. "We're going to try another therapy to boost the antidote. You just relax. We'll take good care of you."_

_Roy lifted his free arm to the mask. Early pulled it away from his face for him._

_"How's Johnny?"_

_"About the same as you."_

_"That bad, eh?"_

_Early smiled. "Don't sell yourself short. You're doing pretty well, given the circumstances."_

_"Has anyone called Joanne?" Roy dreaded thinking about his wife getting a call from the hospital about him. They'd discussed this possible hazards of his job, but that was just talk._

_Early shook his head. "I don't know. I can ask Dixie, if you like."_

_"Yeah. Thanks, Doc."_

_"Now just relax. We'll do all the work." He replaced the mask and went post his head, out of his field of view. He heard quiet clattering noises, metal instruments, glass medicine bottles. Carol came around to swab his arm. She smiled; everyone had lowered their masks now. He could see blurred faces. The overhead lights were too bright, giving him a headache. Carol started the second IV and Early injected the diazepam into the first one. His blurry face loomed again._

_"This should make you feel better. How's your vision? Any improvement?"_

_He shook his head, squinting and blinking back. With the two IVs, he couldn't so easily use his arms to move the mask. His sight seemed to be a little worse._

_"Well, this new treatment should help with that. Just relax and give it a little time to work."_

_Relaxing wasn't an option with the diazepam and after a few minutes the drowsiness crept up on him. He didn't know how long he had to wait and what Early was waiting for. Was Johnny waiting, too? Probably._

_Every time he dozed off, Carol or Betty would take his vital signs. Blood pressure, breathing, respiration. Once they took his temperature. But what kept Roy restless was the thought that Joanne might be just outside waiting for him. Dixie could talk to her. Rampart's head nurse in Emergency was amazing with people, but there was only so much anyone could do. If Joanne was out there, he wanted to tell her he was fine . . . . but he didn't really know. Worse, he could tell that Brackett and Early weren't sure either._

_When both IV's ran low, Early came back (Roy didn't remember him leaving) and told Carol to prepare another course of pralidoxime. And Roy needed to urinate. It was inevitable. Two IVs. It had to go somewhere. Carol and Betty recognized the signs and his hand gestures right away and took care of it. They were efficient and impersonal, but Roy didn't look. They collected some for the lab and took another blood sample to go with it._

_Roy squinted up at a light shining in one eye, then the other. Doctor Early. The light came again. Doctor Brackett. He pulled the mask up over his head._

_"You look like you're breathing a lot easier, Roy. How's it feel?"_

_"Oh." It was better. At least, it felt like there was finally enough air in the room. "Yeah, Doc, it's okay."_

_"Good. We'll have to keep you under observation for a little while longer, but it looks like you two are going to be just fine." Brackett patted him on the shoulder._

_"Thanks, Doc." Roy nodded, a tiny motion of his head and his eyes closed. Early said something to Carol. Or Betty. Or both. More waiting . . . ._

_"Roy? Roy?"_

_He opened his eyes. Things in the room had moved._

_"Joanne?" He could see the features, the short auburn hair, but it couldn't be anyone else._

_"Yeah." Her smaller fingers slipped into hand and he grasped them. "The doctors say you're going to be just fine." She touched his face._

_"I didn't want to worry you." His voice was rough and half-whispered._

_She smiled. "I can take a little worry. You just get better." She pulled back. "The doctors say you need to rest. They're going to take you upstairs now. I'll be back first thing in the morning." Her hand squeezed his. The examination table started moving . . . . but it was a gurney instead. He didn't know when they had moved him. Her hand slipped out of his._

_He blinked up at the lights of the hallway, passing by overhead. Carol got into the elevator with him and the orderlies. He wasn't sure if he knew them; he still couldn't clearly make out features very well. Could he see better now?_

_There was another hallway upstairs and finally a doorway and a room. The orderlies lifted him onto the bed with Carol helping and then covering him. There were no IVs._

_"Thanks, Carol."_

_He recognized the voice. The others left. A new face peered down at him._

_"Hi, Dix."_

_"Well, hi yourself. How're feeling, Roy?"_

_He'd been lying on his back for hours, but he felt completely worn out. "Oh, I've been better."_

_"Well, we're going to make sure that you do get better."_

_"Mmmmm, Dix?"_

_Dixie looked to the right and Roy rolled his head on the pillow. There was a second bed in the room. Blue blanket, dark hair on white._

_"Could I have some more of that water? My mouth is really dry."_

_"Sure thing, Johnny."_

_She picked up a glass with a straw in it and held it up to Johnny's lips, lifting his head with her other hand to make it easier for him to drink. Roy wondered if she had another._

_His mouth was dry, too._

**

* * *

- - - End Part 3**


	4. Chapter 4

**WHAT REALLY HAPPENED**

by ardavenport

**- - - Part 4**

* * *

"Hmmmmmm." The other man in a gray suit - - he was called Agent Marsh - - finished scribbling in his note pad. "I think that's everything." He nodded toward Corrigan who agreed.

"I think, so. We won't need to trouble you any longer. Thank-you for your cooperation."

Roy kept his expression neutral, but Johnny openly sneered at them. "I can't believe you two."

"And what is that, Mr. Gage?"

"You." He pointed back at Corrigan. "Both of you. You're just going to cover this up?"

Corrigan sighed in mock patience. "I had hoped that I wouldn't have to repeat myself." He glanced Roy's way. "To either of you. But it has been decided that it is in the public's best interests that this 'incident' not be announced."

"You mean covered up."

Corrigan remained calm. He had all the power. And he knew it. "If you choose to call it that, Mr. Gage, I have no objection. As long as you do so privately. We certainly appreciate your cooperation in not starting a public panic. This hospitals administrator agrees with us. Along with the Fire Chief, the County Board of Supervisors. And the Governor's office. Now, if you'll excuse us."

"Y'know." Corrigan and Marsh paused at the door. Roy folded his arms before him. "People don't trust their government like they used to these days. And I'm finally starting to understand why."

Roy thought he saw a repressed flinch from Marsh at least before they both left.

Early and Brackett came back in.

"I don't believe those guys. I don't believe those guys!" Johnny's voice rose in outrage.

Brackett, standing by his bedside again, shook his head. "I didn't believe it either until I got a call from the hospital administrator at three in the morning. And then from the Governor's office."

Roy looked up at him. Brackett's face looked haggard and sleepless, blue eyes bloodshot, his black hair not so neatly combed.

"It goes that high?"

"To be honest with you, Roy. I strongly suspect that it goes a lot higher. I didn't ask. I'd recommend that you don't ask either."

Johnny wasn't satisfied. "Well, what happened to the people who died? Are they just going to get covered up, too?"

"Well, that building has been cordoned off and condemned. The official story is illegal storage of banned pesticides. Which I suppose is close enough to the truth. The Army is doing the autopsy on the bodies you found."

That surprised Roy. "The Army?"

"Given the circumstances, it was understandably too dangerous for anyone to do it here or at the coroner's office. The Army at least has prepared for hazards like that."

"Well, who were they?"

Early shook his head to Johnny's question. "We don't know. Those two who just left wouldn't say. And they were pretty heavy handed about discouraging anyone from asking."

Brackett made a sour face. "They showed up last night while we were treating you. Practically gave everyone the third degree about what they knew. And threatened them with losing their jobs if they repeated anything but the 'official' story about what happened. And they made damn sure that there wasn't any evidence left in case anyone wanted to say otherwise."

"They took the tape from the bay station and changed all the charts." Early sounded resigned.

Roy knew how he felt. "And they burned everything we had."

"It's not right." They all looked toward Johnny. "It's not right."

Brackett irritably challenged him. "So, are you planning on going public with this?"

"Nope." Johnny shook his head. "But it's still not right. I mean, if something like this happens again, a lot more people could get killed and they'd never know what hit 'em. We were just lucky."

"Yeah, Doc, I was wondering. . . . how did you know how to treat something like this anyway?" Roy also wanted to get off the uncomfortable subject of what could befall them if they said anything in public about what really happened. "I mean, we don't get a lot of nerve gas attacks around here."

"Well, most nerve agents are chemically similar to a lot of modern pesticides. All the information we get about treating pesticide poisoning always seem to mention nerve gases in the footnotes. Along with the fact that atropine is the antidote for most of them, including sarin."

"How bad is it?" Roy stared up at Brackett, a man not known for skimping on the truth. He folded his arms.

"It's about five-hundred times more toxic than cyanide. One drop on your skin is enough to kill you in minutes."

That silenced even Johnny. Brackett took his pen light out of the pocket of his white lab coat. "Now lets have a look at you two."

Brackett looked at their most general vital signs, listened to their breathing. Early checked them neurologically, sight, reflexes and any signed of tremors. They didn't find anything and Brackett said he would sign their releases for that afternoon as the two doctors left.

After that, a nurse came in with breakfast trays. Orange juice, milk, pale scrambled eggs and a big splat of tasteless oatmeal for both of them. Johnny curled his lip up at it. "Suddenly, I'm not all that hungry."

"Yeah, and we missed dinner last night, too." Roy tasted the eggs. They had to be powdered. "How about coming home to dinner with us tonight? I'm sure Joanne will cook anything we like."

Johnny grinned back at his partner and then his cheer faded. "Are you. . . . are you gonna tell Joanne what really happened?"

Roy put his fork down and stared at the unappetizing meal on the tray over his bed. "Yeah." He nodded. "I'll tell her. . . . I might wait until it's late and we've gone to bed. And we're really alone."

"Yeah, but Roy guys like Corrigan . . . .they're the kind of people who are always listening on people when they shouldn't be."

"Well, guys like Corrigan can't fire me from being Joanne's husband. But she can." He stared forward, picturing the moment when they would be alone, the kids in bed, the rest of the house dark and quiet. He'd tell her about the sarin. And the note that he'd written to her. The one still in his front pocket when they took his shirt away to be burned. "I'll tell her."

**

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- - - End Part 4**


	5. Chapter 5

**WHAT REALLY HAPPENED**

by ardavenport

**- - - Part 5**

* * *

Captain Stanley, dressed in uniform, was waiting for him as soon Roy parked in the back of the station on his first shift back after getting out of the hospital. He had come in early. With new shoes and uniform and hopefully the department wouldn't take too long reimbursing him for the expense. But Stanley had come in even earlier.

"Hey, how you doing there, Roy?" They shook hands as Roy got out of his car.

"Oh, uh, pretty good. Uh, were you waiting for me, Cap?"

"Oh, waiting? Oh, no, no. I was just out here. In the fresh air. Beautiful morning, isn't it?" It was a warm sunny morning, clear blue sky over a plain gray concrete, enclosed parking lot. And Captain Stanley was transparently bad at lying about anything. Roy could understand. He wasn't that great with lying himself. But Stanley was worse.

"Oh, yeah." Roy picked up his bag of things from the passenger seat. "Well, I'm just going to go in and change. Cap." He backed away toward the open rear bay door.

Stanley waved him off. "Oh, you go on." Roy headed for the locker room, but when he looked back, the tall thin man was still out there by himself, bouncing on his heels and obviously waiting for Gage.

Roy was just tying the laces on his new boots when Johnny came in with his own bag of things. They had spent the previous morning waiting in a long line together at the DMV to get temporary replacements for their driver's licenses and apply for new ones and then shopping for new shoes and clothes. And finally Joanne drove them to the station to pick up their cars. Thankfully, C-shift had been out, so they hadn't had to talk to anyone.

"Cap wants to talk to us." Johnny opened his locker.

"Yeah, three guesses what it's about."

Johnny shrugged. "You think they told him anything?"

"Just to tell us not to talk about it."

Roy waited for Johnny to finish dressing and they went to the Captain's office together. Stanley asked them to close the door.

"Ah well." Stanley lowered himself into his chair. Roy sat before him. Johnny stood. "I, uh, just wanted to say, uh, how glad we all are that you're fine and . . . glad to have you back. And uh . . . . I've been asked to, uh, remind you, maybe, about some things that might need to be kept confidential with what happened back there. Whatever might have happened. . . ."

Roy couldn't stand watching him stumble around for words any more. "We know the party line, Cap."

"Yeah." Johnny kept his comments tight-lipped and terse.

Stanley looked nervously relieved. "Oh, well. Good. I just wish I did."

"It's probably better that you don't, Cap."

"Yeah."

Stanley's eyes turned up to Johnny and then down to Roy. "Oh, well. I guess. Now that we understand . . . what happened."

Roy clasped his hands before him. "Headquarters told you to remind us not to talk about it, I guess."

"Actually, it was Chief Houts. Called at four in the morning. Wanted me to come into headquarters after our shift. For a friendly chat." His strained smile looked nervous and bewildered at the same time.

Roy kept his tone even, low and reassuring. "Well, we got the message loud and clear back at the hospital, Cap. You, Chief Houts, and anyone else up the chain of command, don't have to worry about us saying anything."

"Yeah."

Stanley nodded back to Roy and then up at Johnny. "Okay." He obviously had no idea what they had been talking about. And he did want to know. But his sense of duty won out. "Okay." His tone firmed up." "Okay." More definitive, more decisive.

"Well," he slapped his knees. "That's all I wanted to say."

Roy smiled back. More reassurance for his Captain. "Well, thanks for welcoming us back. You don't need us for anything else, do you?"

"Oh, no. Nothing for now." He waved them off. Roy got up and followed Johnny out, but he heard a big sigh behind him from Stanley as they left.

They went through morning line-up and equipment checks with no comment about Squad Fifty-One's last run . . . . until they were in the dayroom with the engine crew while Captain Stanley was in his office.

Apparently Joanne had found out that Roy was injured when she called the station about something else. Captain Stanley had answered the call.

Lopez shuddered. "That was some thousand-yard stare on the Captain's face when he realized it was your wife on the phone, Roy."

Stoker agreed. "Yeah, we'd already heard that you were Code I on that run, but when the Cap radioed to dispatch to say we were available to help they just told us that Rampart said 'toxic chemical exposure'."

"Yeah, and that's all he could tell Joanne." Kelly pressed his lips together under his sagging mustache. "But come on, guys. What really happened to you?"

Johnny shrugged, arm resting on the kitchen table. "Nothing much. Just somebody stored a bunch of bad chemicals illegally and we stupidly walked into it."

Roy had to admit, that was nearly the truth. Nearly. But Chet wasn't satisfied. "Oh come on. There's more to it than that."

Johnny looked peeved. "Well, what do you think happened, Chet?"

"Well," he leaned forward over the table and lowered his voice, "I talked to Patterson at Eighty-Five and he talked to someone at headquarters and she said that the dispatcher who took the call on that run you were on swears that the lady who called it in had a Russian accent."

Chet seemed pleased to reveal with this bit of gossip. Marco and Mike leaned over the table as well. But Roy was unimpressed. Johnny even less so. "Oh, come on. You can't be serious."

"I am serious! She told him - - "

"We aren't talking about what we all agreed what we wouldn't be talking about, are we Kelly?" Holding a clipboard, Captain Stanley came through the door from the apparatus bay. Chet sat back at attention. Marco and Mike sat back away from him.

"Oh, no, Sir. Nothing of the kind."

"Uh, huh." Stanley looked up from the clipboard. "It's your turn for latrine duty today, isn't it, Chet?"

"Oh, no, Sir. It's Marco's - - "

"No, I distinctly remember that it's your turn today. Kelly."

Kelly's expression wilted. That was an order. He lowered his eyes. "Uh, yes Sir, Cap."

"So, maybe you should get right to it." Stanley raised his brows.

"Uh, right away, Cap." Chet got up and left. Lopez and Stoker did their best to look like they were minding their own business. Roy decided to remove the temptation for them. He tapped Johnny's arm to get his attention.

"Come on, Johnny. Let's go look over that new biophone again."

"Hm? Oh, okay." They left the table. That was all that was said about that run at Station Fifty-One. . . .

. . . . until two months later . . . .

Roy flipped through the second half of a draft of a revised paramedic manual, spread out on the station's kitchen table. Johnny yawned over the first half next to him. As senior paramedics, they had been asked to comment on the changes. They each had a red pencil.

Roy skimmed down a list of chemical hazards. His eyes stopped at one paragraph. He sat up, his chair scraping on the floor. He read it again.

"Johnny." Roy laid the page in front of him.

"Hmm?" Johnny looked down at it and scratched his ear.

"Right here. Fifth paragraph." Roy pointed.

Johnny dropped his hand. "What?" He ran his finger under the words that Roy had just read.

**/////** Chemical Weapons **/////**

**/////** While they are extremely unlikely to be encountered, they may be present in military or military contractor laboratories. These toxins would include nerve gasses such as Tabun, **Sarin**, Soman, VX . . . . . **/////**

"I don't believe it." Johnny snarled over the text. The following paragraphs talked about toxicity, symptoms and antidotes.

"I guess somebody thought that somebody should know something about it." Roy kept his voice down, but Kelly, over by the stove stirring a pot of soup, heard something.

"Finding anything juicy in those manuals, guys?"

Johnny snapped back at him over his shoulder. "Yeah a lot of hot dating tips, Chet. You could use the advice."

"Not me, pal. But that does explain a lot if you're getting your pick-up lines from paramedic manuals, Gage." Kelly didn't look up as he sprinkled pepper into the soup.

Johnny grimaced but didn't answer back again. They sat with their shoulders together, reading. The information seemed to be fairly complete. And accurate. Based on their experience.

Roy picked up his red pencil and marked 'OK' in the margin next to it.

**

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%%##^^##%% END %%##^^##%%**

**Disclaimer:** All characters belong to Mark VII Productions, Inc., Universal Studios and whoever else owns the 1970's TV show Emergency!; I am just playing in their sandbox.

**Note:** This story was beta-read by kellymutt.


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